


Fire in the Abbey

by Mersheeple



Series: Hearts&Cauldrons Prompts [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sort Of, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple
Summary: Severus travels to the Brauweiler Abbey to discuss healing his wounds and helping him get his life on track. What he finds changes everything.
Series: Hearts&Cauldrons Prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805746
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons - Daily Prompts!, Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members, Severus Snape Lives!





	Fire in the Abbey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyHeliotrope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHeliotrope/gifts).



> LadyHeliotrope posted a prompt photo a couple of days ago and I thought "Ah, yes, I have an idea...I predict 1000-1500 words". I was wrong. Oh so very wrong. This monster has taken me two days and over 10 hours of writing to complete.
> 
> I know it is not my usual style but...I hope if you have stopped in to have a read, you let me know what you think. Thanks guys! I love all of you...

The Brauweiler Abbey was now closed to all members of the public. The solid stone walls of the former Monastery reminded him of the walls of Hogwarts. It was old, and powerful, and strong and had an aura of danger, in spite of the fact that it was technically a church. Technically.

He had come here once before, called to it as if it were breathing at him, as if it were breathing a new type of breath into his lungs. He had run as far away as he could, returning to England and finding a different Master to train him. Lucius had been horrified, furious that Severus would run from a Master as great as those at The Brauweiler Abbey Academy.

Severus had been afraid to be touched by whatever it was that had called to him. He was already swathed in darkness even then and this place seemed to pulse with light and purity in a way that he could not understand. He was already impure, even back then, at seventeen years old. He had killed his first in the servitude of Tom Riddle and had poisoned and potioned his way into the Inner Circle. This boon, for that was how it had been framed to him, was just another way to keep him in service of the vile tainted soul of Lord Voldemort. He was terrified when he had seen the church. It was the church that had had him running. Some joked that he had run for fear he would burn up, devil or demon that he was. He was just scared of the feel, the vibration, the essence of the place. It felt foreign and wrong. Like spending time with his father.

This place was supposed to be sacred but it scared him. He was doing this for her. He had promised that he would try to find a cure for the poison that tainted his blood and made it impossible for them to move on and start a family. He had promised he would try. He had made the promise before he had known that this place would be the cure. Had he known, he would have never made the promise. This place was not where he wanted to be. It was the last place on earth he would choose to be if not for her. It still looked the same. It still scared him. Twenty years on and it still terrified him. It still felt like time with his father, or time without the love of his life, or time on a dusty floor bleeding out and convinced that no one would care if he lived or died. And that feeling was burned into his memory and his soul. He looked up at the spire of the church and silently begged for the strength to continue on his quest.

The Academy was separate from the Church of St Nicholas but had begun as a place for the monks of the monastery to gain Masteries and create Apprenticeships in the late 13th century. It was younger than Hogwarts and yet arguably held more power. And now Severus was back. He did not want to be back. But he had a good reason. He pulled his shoulders back and reached his hand to the dark wooden door, feeling the pulse of magic under his hand. The door opened and he stepped through into a dark room that smelled of ash and sulphur and burning. He heard the echoes of screams in his head and could feel the burning inside him. And then the voices started…

_I am one, known as Lyssa, daughter of Nyx, borne of the blood of Ouranos. I am one, spirit of mad rage and frenzy, I curse your animals with rabies and your children with temper. I am one and I have turned men to murder and women to torture. I have other names; Ira, Furor, Rabies but I am one._

He held his ground, hoping desperately that she was not going to attack him right at that moment. He wanted to know where they were coming from, what they were going to do to him. The door slammed closed behind him and heat burned through his skin in the darkness. He opened his mouth to scream and the invisible fire burned through his throat and into his lungs as the voices started again.

_We are three, known as the Erinyes, borne of Mother Earth and the blood of Uranus, sisters to the Meliae nymphs of the Ash Trees. We are three, avengers of perjury, infernal goddesses, those who beneath the earth punish whosoever has sworn a false oath. We are three, named often as Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone. We are three, we hear the words of mortal men and punish those who sin. We are three and we are Mistresses of torture, prolonging death until you beg for it, weep for it, dream of it. We are known as the Furies and we are three._

“My sisters! I call to you. Heal me, punish my sins, and purge them from me. Forgive me, hate me, destroy me. My sisters I beg you!” He spoke softly, his voice scratchy, the remnants of the poison that burned through him from the snake’s bite tainting and destroying everything in its wake. He had come here as a last resort. He had been told that this was the only way to potentially cure him but now it looked like he had been tricked.

_We are many, the Maniae, daughters of Nyx. We are many, spirits of rage and fury, crazed frenzy and insanity. We are many, we suckled the god Eros and grew with the goddess Lyssa. We are many, we work with the Erinyes and cause the insanity that makes men beg. We are nameless and faceless and we are many._

A lone figure strode out of the darkness, her skin pale as death and her eyes a burning gold. Her hair was more red even than Lily’s had ever been and she was beautiful and hideous and awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once. Severus fell to his knees, willing to beg and bleed and do anything she may ask just for her to let him live. He had plans. He had so many plans.

“I am one of many, one of the Maniae. I create my identity, choose my name, become myself, begin my life, work alone. I am one of many, I am one alone. I am insanity, I am rage, I am fury, I am crazed frenzy, I am one. I am created, I am begun, I am nothing and all, I am one of many, I am one. I don't remember the day I chose to leave the Maniae. It could have been a day ago, it could have been a year ago, a hundred years, perhaps even a million. I remember that at first it was lonely. I don't know how I learned that word. Lonely. It felt alien on my tongue the day I learned it, and yet it felt right. Having been with a hundred sisters, all daughters of Nyx, I had never been alone. I knew nothing of the world the day that I left. I only knew that I needed to strike out on my own.” Her voice was a scream, deafening in his ears. Her voice was silent, penetrating his soul. Her voice echoed around him and reached out to him and burned through him and yet was beautiful and painful all at once. What was this? This dichotomy of good and evil, of known and unknowable, what was she?

“I left my home in Tartarus, that dark abyss as far beneath Hades as heaven is high above the Earth, left the torturous screams of the Titans in their prison, left the realm of Hades and Hecatonchires and the sinners who have slighted the Gods, their punishment in accordance with their crime. I left the Gods and walked among mortals for the first time. I did not kiss the grass. I did not scream my freedom from the rooftops nor sing my pleasure to the heavens. I merely observed. I watched the children sing and dance. I watched the lovers walk in silence, content to stroll together. I watched families and individuals without bias. Watching them all and wondering how the Erinyes choose the victims, who is less worthy of their sanity.”

“Take my sanity, take everything, give me only life. I beg of thee, Sister, take all that I am and leave me with only my life and the chance to live it.” Severus invoked the spell he had been given by the only person who believed in him. He hoped that the words were right and that the words he was given were enough. The woman stood slowly, watching him as she focussed on the first person who she had seen in a long time.

“You are what we call Dunamis. You are beautiful and I see your heart and soul and how it can be turned to the flame of anger or the ice of distrust. We are taught as children that Dunamis should not be turned. We are not told why, only that they should not be turned to insanity. But I have abided by these rules too long.” The woman approached where he knelt on the floor and he flinched but refused to pull away, no matter how much he wanted to run. Something about her felt wrong, too much. The whole world seemed fuzzy and distorted, as if looking through fire. It was oppressive and distracting and he blinked, staring at the woman’s face. It was as if a notice-me-not charm was placed there because as much as he tried, he could not look directly at her for more than a second at a time. The world rushed back into focus and the woman shook her head taking a proper look at the man on the floor.

“You are not particularly beautiful, not particularly strong, not particularly anything remarkable among the beauties of this world. But I have chosen my mark based not on how you appear but on what you can become. The first Dunamis turned by a Maniae in many hundreds of years. And you are mine.” She shook her head again and made her physical form fade from memory and sight. Severus did not see her shed her more human form for a form that is at once beautiful and yet more terrifying than anything he had seen before; The golden wings, the hair of fire, the ethereal form that one can neither touch nor understand. He could not look at her, he could not see her, he did not understand what she was. She did not disappear. She just stopped being anything describable. He would never be able to look at her and tell anyone what he had seen.

“I see you, Severus Snape. I see all that you are and all that you have been. I will follow my mark, careful to keep a few paces behind you as you walk through life. I will join with you. I will be with you. I am a perfectionist. I must wait and watch and choose my time with precision. I will walk behind you, past men who jeer and call out to you, past women who turn up their nose and ignore you, past children who giggle and titter and dance around you as if you are naught more than a tree bedecked with ribbons rather than this Dunamis, this potential that only I can see.” He felt himself being tugged in a strange version of Apparition. It was as if his body had stayed stationary but his soul had moved.

He watched, as if from outside of his body, as he saw his life flash past his eyes and all the while she walked with him. She walked behind him as he turned out of the parklands by the town river, touching no one as she walked slightly out of time, still there but perhaps a half second outside of the time he lived in.

“The gift of the Maniae, the gift of all of the daughters of Nyx, the gift of being beyond and present at once.” The woman spoke, her voice echoing in his brain though his ears swore they could not be blamed for that monstrosity. They followed his younger self through the winding streets, past the bigger houses to the plush apartments, past the apartments to the familial houses, past the familial houses to the suburban mass accommodation, the slums, an area of deprivation and poverty. The woman frowned, assuming this is the wrong way, confused as to why his younger self was visiting those less fortunate, expecting this to be charity work. 

“I wonder, Master Snape, if perhaps this is why we do not turn the Dunamis; perhaps they are too good, too pure, perhaps our work is wasted.” He watched as his younger self reached under a flowerpot, selecting a single plain key on a ring of metal from the floor. The child walks slowly, treading softly as though he is hiding his footsteps from someone or something. A sound from one of the distant alleyways makes both Severus’s jump and they turn, seeking out that which frightens them. The younger version, on seeing nothing obvious, continued on his way up the small pathway to the broken down house.

In the next second, a noise like that of Cerberus when he is famished echoed around the road and the child screamed but stopped dead still as a great black brute, more bear than dog, bounded towards him. He cried out, flinching away and a voice called out from somewhere they could not see, the voice of a young woman, commanding the beast to stop with the single word "No!" The woman with Severus shimmered into the beast's focus briefly and appeared in her full glory, her wings spread, face a demons mask, fire and sparks and light and burning. No one save the adult form of Severus could see her but they all seemed surprised as the creature turned with its tail tucked between its legs and fled back to where it had come from with a yelp.

The youthful form of Severus walked quickly, as though he was afraid of the beast returning. Severus and the Maniae followed behind, no more than a reflection out the corner of his eye, once more between the now and the past. Severus recognised the scene playing out but…it wasn’t quite the same as he remembered. His hand grazed his side and he frowned. He had a mark in his side, an area that had once been a vicious bite from a beastly black dog that reminded him of Sirius Black before he had known that Sirius Black was in fact an Animagus. Before he had even known who Sirius was. Severus frowned again and spoke to the Maniae in confusion.

“That didn’t happen like that last time. What am I there? Six, maybe seven years old? That dog mauled me. My father punished me for being home late. I have a scar…” Severus trailed off as the Maniae smiled a grotesque and twisted smile that made him quiver in fear.

“You had a scar. You had too many. You do not deserve any of them. Perhaps a few small changes here will change bigger things later on, hmm?” Her voice cut through him and he watched as the young boy darted into the house. Severus waited, flinching as the time dragged before his father reacted. Severus moved to the window and peered in, wondering where the shouting was. He saw nothing but his Da sitting sipping a beer from the bottle, his Mam in the kitchen wearing an apron and cooking. And himself washing his hands ready for dinner. He would not go hungry this night. For once, he would eat dinner with his parents.

The scene faded and they were back in the garden of the house again. Severus could tell that time had moved on as the young boy sitting on the front stoop looked like he was almost nine years old. Almost to the point where he would meet Lily. The door to the house was old, the paint peeling, the wood slightly warped. The lock was rusty and the whole door jammed as someone pushed it from inside, sticking against the mat so that they had to kick the door to get it to open. The woman that stepped out was his mother. But she looked like a healthier version of his mother. Healthier than Severus had known her.

Severus slipped between the door and the frame, still that half second out of time as Eileen called to his younger self to come inside for lunch and then pushed the door closed. She sighed, resting her head on the cool wood and her shoulders slumped as she began to mumble to herself, praying for strength and begging for hope.

The Maniae’s eyes lit up as she walked past Severus, the hairs on his arm the only sign he was aware of her presence at all as they stood on end. Eileen rubbed her arms, a shiver across her neck and shoulders causing the Maniae to frown slightly as she stared at the young boy and his mother looking into each other’s eyes with sad smiles. The young boy dropped a bag that he hadn’t noticed on the floor, took off his lightweight jacket and stared blankly into space.

“This is my Dunamis? This is a being of power so strong that his whole soul shimmers and shines? This is what we were told never to touch or taint with our powers? He looks defeated, lost, blank...he is nothing special.” Severus had heard the words before of course but to be told by something that was as close to a God as he had ever encountered that he was nothing special…well, it hurt. The pain burned through him, worse than the pain of the snake bite. Worse than…he knew this memory. This was the night his Da had come home and told them he had lost his job. Again. The night he had seen his Da hurt his Mam. The night she had begged for her life and his Da had laughed and asked why it was worth saving.

“Severus, go wash up love. Your Da will be home soon I expect.” Eileen’s voice was so soft that he very nearly did as she asked, in spite of not really being there. His childhood form smiled and nodded. The boy removed his shoes, stepped into the room at the end of the hall and ran the wash basin.

Severus felt strange to so intrude on their personal space when they were so unaware of him but he felt he needed to see what exactly was going on. Severus stepped into the tiny water closet and peered into the mirror over the head of the slight form of his younger self. His head hung low, his chin against his chest, the water sluiced over his hands and his shoulders shook as he cried. Severus did not remember why the boy was crying this time. Probably loneliness. That was usually the problem.

His hands pressed against the tile and he backed away as the crying became great wracking sobs and the glow of power from his soul sparked and twisted, a burning amber-gold. It was then that Severus knew what was happening. The first time his magic manifested violently. He wanted to help the boy, knowing that what would come after was worse than what was about to happen. Severus’s skin prickled and he began to feel uncomfortable, running from the room like a coward.

The Maniae stood and stared at the room as it filled with his amber-gold glow, unsure what to do. She smiled at him, looking as though she had read his mind. The voice pulsed in his head again and he desperately wanted to run away from it.

“This is my mark, my target, but never before have I felt so unsettled. I know that I should change my mark...but I have always been more temperamental than my sisters.” She steeled herself as they heard the water stop running and the strange ping that Severus knew was the start of the mirror cracking before it would inevitably explode, tiny shards embedding in his face and causing him to maintain his long hair well into adulthood so that his scars would not show. She walked into the bathroom and he felt the pressure build and heard his mother scream. The lights flickered and he heard the pipes groan and hiss and sigh and then…nothing. There was no smashing, no crash, no sonic boom. There was no sound.

He watched in surprise as his younger self walked out of the bathroom, completely unscathed and he reached up to touch the deepest of the scars he had from that day, a strange triangular gouge between his ear and his jawline that still contained a sliver of glass and was the cause of his most horrific headaches. His fingers brushed his cheek, unblemished skin that he realised was not covered by long strands of fine and greasy hair. What was happening to him?

Severus watched as his mother took a breath and calmed significantly, walking into the water closet to check everything was in order. She came out again, smiling and nodding. She waved his younger self into the kitchen and set him to stirring the large pot of stew on the stove. The front door slammed open and Eileen flinched. Severus, his adult self, noticed that his younger self did not pay any attention to the slam or the flinch and he clenched his fist. Already he was used to the loud noises, the banging and, as he knew would now come, the yelling and screaming of Tobias Snape. 

Eileen hurried from the kitchen into the hall, carrying a beer to her husband and they began to talk quietly as he moved into the front room, flopping on the old chair that groaned with his weight. Severus was not sure if he should stay with the young form of himself or if he should go into the front room and check on his parents. The decision was made for him as the Maniae moved into the front room, abandoning him to look after himself in a strange parody of the normality he remembered from his childhood.

“I lost the job Eileen. There’s nothing here for us now. Factory is closing and there is nothing left.” His Da’s voice was low but calm and Severus frowned. There were a lot of things he remembered about this night but his Da being calm was not one of them.

“Tobias, what are you suggesting?” Eileen’s voice was meek and paper thin, a voice he knew well. There was a soft pulse of orange light and Severus felt suddenly warm, as if the temperature of the house had gone up exponentially. He wondered, briefly, if it was the feeling of the Maniae’s magic washing over the little family.

“Way I see it Eileen, we got two choices. Number one, we stay here in this dump and scrimp and save and scrape through life until we hate each other. Number two, we speak to your Father. He’s up in that big old house, all alone since your Mam died. Maybe he will be more reasonable and help us out. What do you say? Fancy going back to his Lordship?” Severus frowned. This hadn’t happened. He knew it hadn’t.

“Mam! Da! Dinner’s nearly ready!” His younger self called out to them and Severus waited for the yelling. But it never came.

“Think about it Eileen.” Tobias Snape walked into the kitchen and ruffled his hair, grabbing some chipped bowls out of the cupboards and smiling at his younger form. Eileen walked into the room and gestured for Severus to lay the table. The Maniae watched with some mild trepidation as Eileen clenched her fist, her voice dropping to little more than a growl. The witch clenched her eyes shut and looked like she was about to cry. Her shoulders slumped and, when she opened her eyes, they were completely blank. Eileen turned to Tobias and nodded, just once. The smile Tobias gave her was wider and happier than he had ever seen on his Da’s face and Severus almost wept. It was strangely beautiful. They sat down for the simple meal and the world faded around them again. Severus felt the movement of time around him.

The house was different. This wasn’t Spinner’s End. It wasn’t the dump he recognised from his childhood. A young boy, maybe ten years old, came running into the house, calling for his Mam. The boy had dark hair, dark eyes, and a smile on his face. Eileen came out of the kitchen, smiling indulgently at him.

“Severus! Honestly, what has got into you?” She laughed, tousling his hair as he wrapped his arms around her and grinned.

“Look Mam! I got my letter!” He held up a familiar looking piece of brown parchment with fine black writing on the front and Severus gasped as he recognised his Hogwarts letter. So, this was his eleventh birthday then. He was still skinny and short for his age but he looked…less sullen, less waif like, healthier.

“Have you told your Da? You know he will want to know…” Eileen smiled at her son and he grinned back, shaking his head. He skipped out the back door and Severus had to follow him. Where was his Da? They walked over the field at the back of the house and Severus vaguely recognised it. This was still his home, still his home town. It was one of the nicer parts of the town. But where was Tobias? The boy turned a corner and ran through a gate and Severus knew. He just knew where they were.

“Hi Da! Look what I got!” The young boy sat on the ground and brushed his fingers over the headstone and Severus almost didn’t have to read it but he was curious, nonetheless. _Tobias L. Snape, born 1935, died 1969, His love shall carry me through._ Severus smiled sadly as the smaller version of himself began to read.

“‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards).’ He’s got a lot of titles don’t he Da? Betcha’d say he likes himself a bit much. Maybe he is a great man though. ‘Dear Mr Snape’…Imagine it Da! Me…Mr Snape.” The little boy squirmed on the ground and giggled, excitedly shifting again as he continued reading.

“Dear Mr Snape, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July. Yours Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.’ And then there’s a list of everything I have to get. I wish you were here Da. Why’d you have to go? I love you Da.” The boy kissed his fingers and pressed them to the top of the gravestone. Severus turned to watch himself leave and saw the Maniae standing watching him.

“Some things can be changed. And some things cannot. You are stronger for losing him. Your Mother is happier too. It is never safe to turn someone to our way when they are unhappy. It is interesting to watch however.” The Maniae smiled to herself as she leaned towards him. Time shifted and changed around them and he saw himself again, sitting on the stool with the Sorting Hat on his head. The Maniae stepped through his adult form and reached out to the child. 

The touch of a Maniae is not a literal touch. She stayed outside the time they were watching. She did not touch the child version of Severus. Instead, she breathed fire into his heart, sparks into his eyes, flames into his breath and embers into his soul. The rivers of golden fire burn through him and pooled into a mass in his centre, spreading through his veins like blood. Severus watched in horror as the child’s eyes widened slightly and he could almost hear the boy’s mind snap as the Maniae’s mouth opened into a twisted smile. The child screamed, one long note, his eyes rolling back in his head as Severus watched the amber of the Dunamis spirit war with the gold of the Maniae way. The patterns it created are beautiful, twists and spirals and gold and fire and embers and sparks, all dancing around each other. Severus watched in horror as the child collapsed under the pressure of this new magic pulsing inside him.

Severus watched as the Maniae’s arms spread wide and she threw the Sorting Hat off his head as the Hat screamed. It burned and warped and broke into a hundred pieces of fabric and smouldering ash. Her eyes widened and she stared through the flames and sparks her magic had put there, seeing the world in all its furious and twisted glory.

Madness corrupts people in different ways - some become angry with the world, some become angry with themselves, some become violent, some become passive-aggressive, some hear voices of those long since dead, some see things the rest of us cannot see...but she had never seen the reaction of a Dunamis. Severus prayed he would never see any reaction like this again.

The child did not scream. He did not yell. He did not cry or become violent against himself. He did not let her soul burn up and perish as so many do. He took the fire inside and made it his, nursing it, keeping it strong. Severus watched as his childish form stood up, dark hair lengthening, dark eyes darkening until they were black. His lips lifted into a smirk and he turned to look at the Head Table.

“Εγώ δεν φοβάμαι. Είμαι ισχυρότερος από τη φωτιά, παλαιότερος από τους αρχαίους, περισσότερο από όλα. I am not afraid. I am stronger than fire, older than the Ancients, more than everything.” The child spoke in a voice that Severus realised was his own, deeper, more haunting than it should be for one so young. But he recognised the words and could not help but repeat them, his voice mixing with that of the child.

“I am stronger than fire, older than the Ancients, more than everything. I call the past into question, the present into being, the future into disarray. Let what once was not be. Let what was planned be changed. Let this be the end, the beginning, the omega and the alpha.” A blast of fiery gold magic raised up to the ceiling and swept through the Great Hall. People around the Hall began to flinch as the gold flared down and touched them.

Lucius Malfoy, 6th Year Slytherin Prefect. Narcissa Black, 4th Year Slytherin. Peter Pettigrew, 1st Year, as yet unassigned. Bertha Jorkins, 3rd Year Gryffindor. James Potter, 1st Year Gryffindor. Alvin Avery, 5th Year Slytherin. Frank Longbottom, 1st Year Gryffindor…there were so many others touched by the gold flares. And then the colours changed. Bertha, Frank, a young girl named Alice and a sprinkling of others turned a muted yellow, the colour of cool flame. Peter, Lucius and Alvin turned a deep burning red and began to whine and moan in pain. James, the Evans girl that Severus knew from around town, one of the Professors and a small Seventh Year that Severus vaguely remembered from Diagon Alley burned orange, almost as if it would take only a small event or change to cause them to go either way… 

The young version of Severus began to run around the Great Hall and Severus followed, keeping pace with him. The Maniae rose above them, watching from above, puzzled. No one had ever taken the fire of a Maniae and used it. It was expelled or it destroyed. It was never used. His soul’s own golden glow fought with the Maniae amber-gold fire and neither won, a battle ongoing, seeming eternal as he strode around the Hall, stopping to push his hands out in front of him and push the magic from his fingertips, seemingly randomly assigning colours to other people. Severus watched her take a deep breath and the colours swirled strongly again. Soon, more than half of the witches and wizards at the lower tables were marked with flames of various colours. Golds and Oranges and Reds swirled around them all, ribbons of flame licking up at the ceiling.

No one was hurting, no one was in pain. They were afraid but they could not move. Some were trying to say things but, though their lips moved, no sound came out. Lip reading is particularly hard when one is not used to the words of mortals, to their language. The words of the Maniae are ideas, thoughts, memories, and feelings psychically linked to the group, a hive mind, a controlled and beautiful chaos. Severus watched her confusion and then noticed where his younger self had moved to. He stood in front of Albus Dumbledore and he spoke in the language of the Ancients. A language he could not understand and yet Severus knew what was being said because he had said it all before.

His words were strong, determined, quiet. The young boy looked at him with innocence in his eyes and bile in his throat, his tongue spoke words made of granite, diamonds, treasured words that conveyed more than even the psychic link of the Maniae. His words were passionate and his body as still as the night sky. He showed no movement as he told Albus Dumbledore all the things that he was expected to do for the Snape family in order to make their home life better. There was no wavering in his voice, no trepidation, his strength shone through every pore. He growled low in his throat and stole promises from Albus Dumbledore’s mind, an Oath bond between them that would override any Oath that Albus would ever extract from Severus in the future, present, past…whatever this timeline was.

Albus Dumbledore finally nodded in awe, silent as the young boy, still not assigned to a House and with no way to do so now that the Sorting Hat was destroyed, turned and walked away, away from the Head Table, away from the Staff, back towards the place the Sorting Hat had been destroyed. He bent down, picking up the scrap of fabric and breathed life into it, his soul glowing with the effort. Severus could hardly believe his eyes when the Sorting Hat was returned to its standard look, just like he had first seen it only a small number of moments ago.

The world began to stretch and fade from view and he heard the word of the Sorting Hat as he picked it up once more.

“Slytherin!” At least that hadn’t changed. Severus felt he may have fainted if his fate had been changed that much. He turned to the Maniae and she smiled that ghastly smile at him again. He reached for her, taking her hand as she pulled him forward through time, into a stream of memories on a strange winding road he didn’t recognise, filled with memories he did not have until he saw them, watching them like they were movies.

They walked through winding streets, past children who had teased him, who now ignored him as their parents herded them into their houses. We walked through the larger roads, past bars and taverns where the men who had jeered and laughed at his mother, catcalling after his Da had died in the car accident, sat drinking a hard earned pint of beer or glass of something stronger, who now ignored them both, pushing away their drinks as he made sure that no other young children would be left fatherless. They walked past shop fronts in the town centre, the shops he had spent his misbegotten youth stealing from, the shops he had been entrusted to walk to with a shilling to get his Da a newspaper, a bar of chocolate for himself and a loaf of bread from the bakers on the way back, where the women who had giggled and smirked and complained about “the Snape crone” stand staring longingly at the beautiful trinkets that they could never afford, discontented with their lot as they always would be, in this life or any other.

And still they walked on, towards the Brauweiler Abbey, majestic and lit up with beautiful white lights reflecting off the Pentelic marble, white and stark against the bluish-black of the night sky as they pressed on, their pace hurrying as the colours swirled within his soul. He could feel it now, see it even as he looked at his skin, burning fire inside his veins.

The breeze picked up as they climbed towards the Abbey, the Maniae’s hair whipping around her as she smiled brilliantly when the building came into view. She moved inside in silence and stood still in the Courtyard, halfway between the entrance and the door that he had entered through before his bizarre trip through time had started. She looked towards the outer archway, out over the city of Pulheim. Severus watched her smile as she raised her arms to point directly at him and he felt his body shimmer unwillingly as she forced him out of the time between. She smiled and made no move to come closer to him.

"You are beautiful. You are perfect. You are just as you were always meant to be, my Dunamis." The Maniae’s voice rang out, louder than Severus had expected, echoing around the courtyard. She moved her arms to point them sideways, still, and steady as a cross as she looked up at the spire of the Church of St Nicholas. She was bathed in a swirl of colour, fire and flame, swirls of ice, swirls the colour of whiskey.

The colours grew stronger, brighter, more beautiful until Severus had to look away for fear of being blinded. He found his eyes drawn to the shadow of her, surrounded by flames and gold and a swirling mass of beautiful colours. He watched her move her hand to her lips, blowing a silent kiss to me as the colours consumed and burned her out, bursting so bright as to make the lights inside the Courtyard themselves appear golden and less stark. Her form in shadow faded and Severus saw only the door, still open and waiting for him to step through.

A single thought came into his head, a voice he recognised, as he stepped through the door of the Brauweiler Abbey and into a room that looked more familiar than it should have.

_We are many, we are all, we are forever and always. We are Maniae_

He stepped over the threshold into his own home and saw the two people he loved most in the world. His Mam and the woman who had put the fire in his veins and made him stronger, better, more willing to live. His true love. His Hermione.


End file.
